The Human Chronicles Book 1: Tough Cookie
by Lost2Paradise
Summary: This is my own version of a companion to The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice. It Follows the relationship of Lestat De Lioncourt and Tough Cookie. Set in 'The Vampire Lestat' and 'Queen of the Damned' I do not own any of these characters, or the overall plot. Non m-sue. Rated m for sexual themes and language come on people, its based on Anne Rice books, what do you expect?


**The Human Chronicles**

_**Book 1**_

Sixth Street

New Orleans, 1984

I swayed back and forth slowly as I played my electric piano. The others, beating out their own tunes, were just as lost in the music as I was. Today we were playing by ear, by heart, and really just messing around. We had decked our selves out in our gig costumes and make-up as always, to get used to the feel of it as we played. As I continued to sway, my long pink hair(free of any binding) brushed my back over and over, left to right then right to left. The light sensation sent tingles through me tonight as it never had before. The music pounded through me in sensual waves that were nearly physical. I opened my eyes just a bit, staring out at nothing and realizing that the feeling really was physical and it was growing stronger. I stopped, fingers hovering above the keyboard as I tried to process what I was feeling. The sensation grew and grew, and suddenly my Egyptian style teddy was too tight under the mesh of my fishnet shirt. I fumbled to undo the clasps, the fishnet making it harder than it should be. Then all of a sudden the feeling was gone and I looked up to find Alex and Larry looking at me. They weren't suspicious, or concerned, or even confused as to why I had freaked out out of no where and half stripped myself(not that I hadn't already been half naked to begin with). They had merely stopped playing because I had stopped, and now they watched me to see when I would start again. With a soft toss of my head I stepped up to the keyboard again, hands automatically beginning a tune and just like that, the music had begun again and all reason was gone.

Days and nights passed in their usual blur and soon it was Saturday, the busiest night where bands and bars are concerned, and we all sat around in costume, not a gig in sight. Then the feeling came again, sending a shiver down my spine. It was like something was watching us, something rawly sexual and dark. There came a knock on the door and Alex Answered it. On the other side was a man, if such a watered down word could possibly be used to describe him. He was maybe six feet tall, clean shaven and with perfectly messy blonde hair that seemed to try in vain to conceal his piercing blue eyes and soft, sensual mouth. His physique was slim yet muscular, and oh how lovely those muscles looked. I felt that if I were to touch them lightly, to caress them, they would feel soft and smooth but should I press against them they would be unimaginably hard and unyielding. Just then I noticed him looking at me, those to-die-for-blue eyes looking me up and down slowly, appreciatively, familiarly. The same feeling that I had been getting all week came back to me and I felt my nipples harden instantly. He gave a wide seductive smile setting my body absolutely on fire and turned to Larry who seemed to have been talking to him all along. Then, in a voice that was low, and smooth, and deep, and captivating, and so much more, he announced to us all;

"I am the vampire Lestat."

He explained to us that he wanted to join us and that if we trusted him, we would become famous. I could see stars shining in Alex and Larry's eyes and they were laughing, and I was laughing. It was all so bizarre and delightful that we just could not help it. Sure we called ourselves 'Satan's Night Out' and our lyrics worshipped the devil, and we dressed as though we were from a satanic cult, but none of us actually believed in god or the devil and certainly not in vampires. Then he was beside me at my electric piano, having moved across half the studio in the blink of an eye. The others didn't seem to notice. He laughed _and my breasts plumped_. He gently took me by the shoulders and scooted me over to stand in front of the keyboard, _my skin caught fire and I was wet_. He started to play, then sing. _I melted for him_.

For the first song-or first part of one in any case-he chose a rock song, his voice very alike to the original artist's, yet at the same time it was better. He added a certain element, a sweet, seductive undertone that made the song more like a hymn than anything else. He kept switching songs, seeming to play things that sounded older and older, and at some point the slipped entirely into another language. It sounded French, which made sense with his slight French accent. We were sold. When he stopped I realized that Larry and Alex were staring at him strangely, as if recognizing something about him. Larry cried out softly.

"Oh, Lestat from _Interview With A Vampire_! Of course!"

I recognized the name at once, having heard Larry and Alex debating about something from the book. Whether or not he would have let 'Claudia' die, given the chance to save her I think it was. Larry had thought he would since she had done some terrible thing or another to him, but Alex had refused to believe it.

In any case we were all relatively glad he hadn't said he was Count Dracula or his son or any of the other overused vampire names and titles out there. Alex was thrilled, Lestat was his favorite character he told us all plainly. Lestat looked stunned.

"Pretending to be the vampire Lestat?"

He asked in a voice that went perfectly with his expressively shocked face. His French accent seemed a bit more pronounced. After a few moments he spoke again;

"Show me this book."

Alex, Larry and I all went on a search for it, finally finding it under a pile of other books. The whole thing was torn up and old. The only thing really holding the book together was a rubber band. He asked politely if he could read it and we agreed. I gestured to the bed that none of us ever seemed to sleep in, instead winding up on the couch or floor for one reason or another. He sauntered silently to it and laid down without so much as a single metallic creak from the bed.

After a while he left;

troubled,

book in hand.


End file.
